Маргарет Уэйс - Dragons of Spring Dawning

“Right.” Caramon gave Tas a final glance, then drew a deep breath. “Tika,” he said, “stay still. Pretend you’re unconscious—”

Tika nodded and lay back down, obediently closing her eyes. Raistlin heard Caramon clanking down the corridor, he heard his brother’s loud, booming voice, then the mage forgot his brother, forgot the approaching draconians, forgot everything as he concentrated upon his spell.

Removing a luminous white pearl from an inner pocket, Raistlin held it firmly in one hand while he took out a gray-green leaf from another. Prizing the kender’s clenched jaws open, Raistlin placed the leaf beneath Tasslehoff’s swollen tongue. The mage studied the pearl for a moment, calling to mind the complex words of the spell, reciting them to himself mentally until he was certain he had them in their proper order and knew the correct pronunciation of each. He would have one chance, and one chance only. If he failed, not only would the kender die, but he might very well die himself.

Placing the pearl upon his own chest, over his heart, Raistlin closed his eyes and began to repeat the words of the spell, chanting the lines six times, making the proper changes in inflection each time. With a thrill of ecstasy, he felt the magic flow through his body, drawing out a part of his own life force, capturing it within the pearl.

The first part of the spell complete, Raistlin held the pearl poised above the kender’s heart. Closing his eyes once more, he recited the complex spell again, this time backwards. Slowly he crushed the pearl in his hand, scattering the iridescent powder over Tasslehoff’s rigid body. Raistlin’s chanting came to an end. Wearily he opened his eyes and watched in triumph as the lines of pain faded from the kender’s features, leaving them filled with peace.

Tas’s eyes flew open.

“Raistlin! I—plooey!” Tas spit out the green leaf. “Yick! What kind of nasty thing was that? And how did it get into my mouth?” Tas sat up dizzily, then he saw his pouches. “Hey! Who’s been messing with my stuff?” Glancing up at the mage accusingly, his eyes opened wide. “Raistlin! You have on Black Robes! How wonderful! Can I touch them? Oh, all right. You needn’t glare at me like that. It’s just that they look so soft. Say, does this mean you’re truly bad now? Can you do something evil for me, so I can watch? I know! I saw a wizard summon a demon once. Could you do that? Just a small demon? You could send him right back. No?” Tas sighed in disappointment. “Well— Hey, Caramon, what are those draconians doing with you? And what’s the matter with Tika? Oh, Caramon, I—”

“Shut up!” Caramon roared. Scowling ferociously at the kender, he pointed at Tas and Tika. “The mage and I were bringing these prisoners to our Highlord when they turned on us. They’re valuable slaves, the girl especially. And the kender is a clever thief. We don’t want to lose them. They’ll fetch a high price in the market in Sanction. Since the Dark Queen’s gone, it’s every man for himself, eh?”

Caramon nudged one of the draconians in the ribs. The creature snarled in agreement, its black reptilian eyes fastened greedily on Tika.

“Thief!” shouted Tas indignantly, his shrill voice ringing through the corridor. “I’m—” He gulped, suddenly falling silent as a supposedly comatose Tika gave him a swift poke in the ribs.

“I’ll help the girl,” Caramon said, glaring at the leering draconian. “You keep an eye on the kender and, you over there, help the mage. His spell-casting has left him weak.”

Bowing with respect before Raistlin, one of the draconians helped him to his feet. “You two"—Caramon was marshaling the rest of his troops—"go before us and see that we don’t have any trouble reaching the edge of town. Maybe you can come with us to Sanction,” Caramon continued, lifting Tika to her feet. Shaking her head, she pretended to regain consciousness.

The draconians grinned in agreement as one of them grabbed hold of Tas by the collar and shoved him toward the door.

“But my things!” wailed Tas, twisting around.

“Keep moving!” Caramon growled.

“Oh, well,” the kender sighed, his eyes lingering fondly on his precious possessions lying scattered on the bloodstained floor. “This probably isn’t the end of my adventuring. And—after all—empty pockets hold more, as my mother used to say.”

Stumbling along behind the two draconians, Tas looked up into the starry heavens. “I’m sorry, Flint,” he said softly, “Just wait for me a little longer.”

As Tanis entered the antechamber, the change was so startling that for a minute it was almost incomprehensible. One moment he had been fighting to stand on his feet in the midst of a mob, the next he was in a cool dark room, similar to the one he and Kitiara and her troops had waited in before entering the Hall of Audience.

Glancing around swiftly, he saw he was alone. Although every instinct urged him to rush out of this room in his frantic search, Tanis forced himself to stop, catch his breath, and wipe away the blood gumming his eye shut. He tried to remember what he had seen of the entry into the Temple. The antechambers that formed a circle around the main Hall of Audience, themselves connected to the front part of the temple by a series of winding corridors. Once, long ago in Istar, these corridors must have been designed in some sort of logical order. But the distortion of the Temple had twisted them into a meaningless maze. Corridors ended abruptly when he expected them to continue, while those that led nowhere seemingly went on forever.

The ground rocked beneath his feet as dust drifted down from the ceiling. A painting fell from the wall with a crash. Tanis had no idea of where Laurana might be found. He had seen her come in here, that was all.

She had been imprisoned in the Temple, but that was below ground. He wondered if she had been at all cognizant of her surroundings when they brought her in, if she had any idea how to get out. And then Tanis realized that he himself had only a vague idea of where he was. Finding a torch still burning, he grabbed it and flashed it about the room. A tapestry-covered door swung open, hanging on a broken hinge. Peering through it, he saw it led into a dimly lit corridor. Tanis caught his breath. He knew, now, how to find her! A breath of air stirred in the hallway—fresh air, pungent with the odors of spring, cool with the blessed peace of night— touched his left cheek. Laurana must have felt that breath, she would guess that it must lead out of the Temple. Quickly Tanis ran down the hallway, ignoring the pain in his head, forcing his weary muscles to respond to his commands.

A group of draconians appeared suddenly in front of him, coming from another room. Remembering he still wore the dragonarmy uniform, Tanis stopped them.

“The elfwoman!” he shouted. “She must not escape. Have you seen her?”

This group hadn’t, apparently, by the tone of the hurried snarls. Nor had the next group Tanis encountered. But two draconians wandering the halls in search of loot had seen her, so they said. They pointed vaguely in the direction Tanis was already heading. His spirits rose.

By now, the fighting within the Hall had ended. The Dragon Highlords who survived had made good their escapes and were now among their own forces stationed outside the Temple walls. Some fought. Some retreated, waiting to see who came out on top. Two questions were on everyone’s mind. The first—would the dragons remain in the world or would they vanish with their Queen as they had following the Second Dragon War?

And, second—if the dragons remained, who would be their master?

Tanis found himself pondering these questions confusedly as he ran through the halls, sometimes taking wrong turns and cursing bitterly as he confronted a solid wall and was forced to retrace his steps to where he could once again feel the air upon his face.